Turning Ten Tomorrow
by Elizabeth Bennet-Darcy
Summary: This is a series of stories about the Senior Staff, plus Donna and Charlie, on the day before their tenth birthdays. The stories deal with their relationships with their fathers and contain some language and mild child abuse if there is such a thing . Pl
1. Default Chapter

Title: Chicago, Illinois 1952

Author: Elizabeth Bennet-Darcy

Disclaimer: They are not mine for keeps. I'll just borrow them, play very carefully and put them back unharmed (relatively).

Summary: The senior staff, plus two, on the day before their tenth birthdays. Mainly focuses on their relationships, or lack thereof, with their fathers.

Spoilers: Various episodes, but nothing too telling.

Rating: PG13 for language and some mild child abuse (is there such a thing?)

**CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 1952**

"WHERE THE GODDAMN HELL IS THAT BOY?!" Leo McGarry clung to the tree he was hiding in while watching his drunken father stumble around the backyard looking for him. Tom McGarry attempted to kick the trash can but missed and fell into a pile of leaves. "JESUS GODDAMN CHRIST!"

Leo said a silent prayer that the neighbors had their windows up. He craned his neck to see the driveway. Why hadn't his mother left yet? She was supposed to have her hair done at four-thirty. He said another, more anxious, silent prayer that she would leave before his father went back into the house. He hoped she wasn't looking for him. She knew better than that. She knew that Leo was good at running and hiding and not coming back until his father had passed out. He was glad that Josie and Lizzy had dance class at the same time their father came home. It was harder to hide with the two little girls.

The slamming car door caught Leo's attention and he watched as his mother backed out of the driveway. Leo breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, the sound had also attracted his father's attention. Leo looked down to see Tom looking up at him with wide, manic, drunken eyes. "Get down here," Tom McGarry demanded in a deadly quiet voice.

Leo shook his head and gripped the tree trunk tighter. "Get the hell outta that tree, you look like a Goddamned monkey," his father slurred.

"I gotta get my merit badge for Scouts. I gotta spend the night in a tree," Leo lied. He gripped the trunk tighter as his father shook the tree.

"Get down here before I have to come up and get you!"

"I gotta do it myself! Scout Leader said I gotta be up here by myself; can't let parents help."

"Stupidest Goddamn thing," Tom muttered as he stumbled toward the tool shed. Leo took his chance, scrambled down the tree and jumped to the ground. He ran through the backyard and hopped the fence into Mrs. Owen's garden where he hid, huddled against her woodshed. When he timidly peeked over the fence into his own back yard, a few minutes later, he saw Thomas McGarry using an ax to drunkenly chop at the tree he had been in.

Leo blew a breath through his nose. He was tired of running and hiding. Tomorrow he would stop. Tomorrow he'd stand up to his father and not let him scare his mother and his sisters anymore, because tomorrow Leo would turn ten.


	2. Manchester, New Hampshire 1953

Title: Manchester, New Hampshire 1953

Author: Elizabeth Bennet-Darcy

Disclaimer: They are not mine for keeps. I'll just borrow them, play very carefully and put them back unharmed (relatively).

Summary: The senior staff, plus two, on the day before their tenth birthdays. Mainly focuses on their relationships, or lack thereof, with their fathers.

Spoilers: Various episodes, but nothing too telling.

Rating: PG13 for language and some mild child abuse (is there such a thing?)

**MANCHESTER, NEW HAMPSHIRE 1953**

"...And so Paul Revere was able to wake the people of Lexington and Concord so the Minute Men would be ready to meet the British forces. That's why he's one of our greatest patriots and a hero," Jed heard his father tell his younger brother.

"Actually," Jed piped up, "Paul Revere was captured by the British. The other man who rode, Charles Dawes, was able to reach many more towns and many more people, he should be a hero, too."

Jed stilled has his father turned to look at him with cold blue eyes. Jed wasn't sure why he expected to see some sort of pride on the man's face; he never had before. "What have I told you, time and again, about correcting me?"

"I wasn't correcting you, I was adding..."

Jed heard the crack of his father's slap almost before he felt it. His hand came up to touch his numb cheek. "What have I told you," his father repeated through clenched teeth, "about correcting me?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Jed said, turning to leave the room. He tucked the large book he'd been reading under his arm and started toward the door.

"What are you reading?" his father demanded grabbing the book from Jed.

"It's..."

"Is this Latin?"

"Yes, sir," Jed whispered.

"Is this one of my Latin books?"

"Yes, sir," Jed said louder.

"You think you can read Latin?"

"Yes, sir, I can," Jed said strongly.

"And you think you can just take my books?"

"You can't read it, sir, so why shouldn't I?" Jed almost shouted. He heard his mother gasp just as he felt the immense volume hit his left shoulder blade. His arm tingled as he felt the book hit the middle of his back and then his backside, twice, hard.

His father grabbed him by the back of the neck with one hand and flipped the book open with his other. He put the volume on the table and shoved Jed's face onto the page. "Well, read, you're so smart, read!" His father's voice was shrill and angry.

Jed took a deep breath and although tears were streaming down his cheeks he steadied his voice and began to read the Latin verse.

"Shut up," his father screamed at him. Edward Bartlet began pulling thick books off the shelves. He dropped them onto Jed's hand that rested on the table. Jed winced but didn't take his eyes off his father. "If you're so brilliant, read these, read until you know everything in them!"

Jed picked the books up off the table and ran to his room. He would read them. He would read until he knew them cover to cover. Tomorrow Jed would know everything his father did and everything he didn't, because tomorrow Jed would turn ten.


	3. Brooklyn, New York 1968

Title: Brooklyn, New York 1968

Author: Elizabeth Bennet-Darcy

Disclaimer: They are not mine for keeps. I'll just borrow them, play very carefully and put them back unharmed (relatively).

Summary: The senior staff, plus two, on the day before their tenth birthdays. Mainly focuses on their relationships, or lack thereof, with their fathers.

Spoilers: Various episodes, but nothing too telling.

Rating: PG13 for the series, PG for this story.

**BROOKLYN, NEW YORK 1968**

Toby watched as his sister finished embroidering the purple peace sign on the back pocket of her bell bottom jeans. Mom was gonna be mad that she "ruined" more clothes. Rachel wouldn't care she'd just roll her eyes and tell her mother to stop oppressing her. Janice would agree and add that clothes should make a statement about who you are and what you believe. Mom would respond that she and Dad hadn't come to this country so her daughters could dress like common tramps. Rachel would argue that that was exactly why they had come to America; for the freedom. Janice would add that those who didn't exercise their freedom didn't deserve their freedom. Toby would then leave the apartment because he didn't really understand the argument.

Today, however, he felt that he needed to stick around. The tenseness in the apartment felt as oppressive as the heat in mid-July. Toby turned and pressed his nose against the cold window. He could see a family in the street below tugging and pushing a Christmas tree up the stoop. He wished Jewish people put up trees for Chanukah. They looked nice and smelled good. He also liked Christmas cookies. Mrs. Holtz baked gingerbread men and gave him two every time he brought her cat back to her.

Toby wandered into the kitchen hoping for something that was kind of like gingerbread. His grandmother and mother were whispering in Yiddish. They were talking about his father. They always spoke Yiddish when talking about his father. Dad had had to work long hours at the coat factory lately. Toby couldn't remember seeing him for days, since school let out for winter vacation.

Toby couldn't really speak Yiddish but he did know lots of words and if Grandma spoke slowly he would understand what she was asking for. He picked up words now, something about his father and a candy story; something about freedom; something about a dead person; something about jail. Toby looked at his Grandmother's face, she looked tense and worried. His mother looked sad and scared.

Toby backed out of the kitchen and turned to his sisters. Janice had David on her lap and although Toby hadn't sat on his sisters' laps in years he allowed Rachel to pull him onto hers.

"Mom has to go down town to do something for Dad tomorrow, so how would you like to come with Janice and me to the protest rally?"

Toby nodded, "Is Dad going to jail?"

Janice and Rachel looked at each other over Toby's head. "Where did you hear that?" Janice asked in a way that told Toby he was right.

Toby shrugged, "I don't know."

"You gonna come with us?" Rachel asked.

Toby nodded. Tomorrow Toby would go to a protest rally and exercise his freedom of speech, because tomorrow Toby would turn ten.


	4. Dayton, Ohio 1970

Title: Dayton, Ohio 1970

Author: Elizabeth Bennet-Darcy

Disclaimer: They are not mine for keeps. I'll just borrow them, play very carefully and put them back unharmed (relatively).

Summary: The senior staff, plus two, on the day before their tenth birthdays. Mainly focuses on their relationships with their fathers.

Spoilers: Various episodes, but nothing too telling.

Rating: PG13 for the series; PG for this story.

**DAYTON, OHIO 1970**

"C.J.! Look out!"

C.J. came out of a nearly perfect sit spin only to be slammed into by her older brother in full hockey gear. "Andrew," she screeched, "this is my end of the ice! Daddy said I could practice on this end and you have to stay off! Daddy said it!"

"Sorrr-eee," Andrew sneered back, "it's not like we can control which way the puck'll go."

"Isn't that the whole point of hockey- to control the puck?"

"No, brainless, the point is to make a goal."

"And how are you gonna do that when the goal is on the OTHER END OF THE ICE?!"

"Listen, aren't you done with the whole, fairy-princess, sugar-snow-plum thing anyway?" her oldest brother Chris asked. "'Cause we could really use you on defense."

"Really?" C.J. asked flattered, they never let her play hockey with them.

"Yeah," Andrew said brightly, "You're so long and skinny we could use you as a stick."

"Actually, I was thinking she could do that flailing around thing she was just doing and distract the other team," her brothers and their friends skated away laughing.

She skated to the end of the pond and pulled her skates off, "Just wait Chris and Andrew and Kenny, I'm telling Dad!"

"C.J.," Kenny said placating.

"It's Claudia Jean," she said stomping down the path.

By the time she got to the house she was steaming mad. How dare they make fun of her? How dare they try to wreck her Olympic dreams? A stick!? Flailing around!? Oh, she'd sure show them.

"Daddy, the boys are on my ice and I can't practice and Andrew called me a stick and they won't let me play!" she whined to her father.

"C.J." her father looked up from the papers he was grading, "no one likes a tattle-tale. Besides your brothers don't want you to play because the first time things don't go your way you cry and whine and tell. I wouldn't want to play with you either."

C.J.'s eyes filled with tears, "Daddy..."

"Claudia, I'm in the middle of something... I have to get these tests graded, go do something somewhere else."

"Forget it then! Forget everything! Forget I'm even your daughter!" C.J. said in a burst of tears as she fled the room.

Twenty minutes later her mother knocked on her bedroom door. "Can I come in? I have hot chocolate."

"Yeah," C.J. said wiping her eyes. Janet Cregg sat at the end of her bed as C.J. sipped her chocolate.

"All your father meant, sweetheart, is that if you want to play with the boys you're going to have to play like the boys. You're going to have to be tough, and because you're a woman, you'll have to be tougher. You'll have to be smart and because you're a woman you'll have to be smarter. You'll have to be good, and because you're a woman you'll have to be better. You can do anything you want, but you'll have to work harder."

"Why can't Daddy just say it like that?" C.J. asked tearfully.

"Because sometimes people can't find the right words. Some people don't understand that the right words make all the difference, sometimes."

"Thanks Mom," C.J. said smiling.

"You're welcome, Claudia Jean."

"It's C.J."

When her mother left the room C.J. took off her pink skating outfit. Tomorrow she would wear Kenny's old hockey gear to the pond. Tomorrow C.J. would play with the big boys, because tomorrow C.J. would turn ten.


	5. Westport, Connecticut 1972

Title: Westport, Connecticut 1972

Author: Elizabeth Bennet-Darcy

Disclaimer: They are not mine for keeps. I'll just borrow them, play very carefully and put them back unharmed (relatively).

Summary: The senior staff, plus two, on the day before their tenth birthdays. Mainly focuses on their relationships with their fathers.

Spoilers: Various episodes, but nothing too telling.

Rating: PG13 for the series; PG for this story. tissue alert. (P.S. I know October is a little late to be playing little league but I had to make it near Josh's birthday.)

**WESTPORT, CONNECTICUT 1972**

Josh knew the sound of the ball hitting a bat. He knew the difference between a grounder and a pop-up. He knew the difference between a foul and a homer. This was a foul. He shot up from his crouched position like a rocket, pushing his catcher's mask to the top of his head on the way. His brown eyes quickly found the white sphere. He ran about six yards and the ball fell into his mitt. "OUT!"

Josh sighed as he trotted back to the dugout with the rest of his team. They were still six runs down. He looked resentfully at the boys who were patting his back and complimenting him. Why couldn't he be in a competitive league this year? Why did he have to be in a league where everybody got to play, even the kid who still held the bat by the wrong end? How was he supposed to win with teammates like that?

Josh looked up into the bleachers; five rows up, five seats in he found his dad. That was his dad's seat. It had been since Josh's first t-ball game five years earlier. No matter what case Noah Lyman was arguing he had never missed one of Josh's games. Today Noah sat in a neatly pressed suit with a light trench coat to ward off the October chill. He wore a fedora that would have made Joanie roll her eyes.

Josh's breath hitched in his chest as he thought of Joanie. She would have been down at the football field watching the high school football team practice instead of watching Josh on his road to the major leagues. When they got into the car after the game, and after fighting about who got to sit in front, Josh would have told his dad about having seen Joanie talking to a group of varsity football players. Joanie would have pulled at the fine hairs at the nape of Josh's neck to shut him up and try to convince her father that she had been watching the marching band. Her private school didn't have a marching band.

But Joanie would never be able to bemoan the fact that she had to go to private school; she'd never flirt with football players or pull Josh's hair ever again. Josh blinked quickly to stop the tears that threatened. People were calling his name and he realized that it was his turn to bat.

He slid off the bench and walked slowly out of the dugout. When Jimmy "Wrong-End" Lane shoved a bat at Josh, for him to use, it poked Josh's ribs. Josh got mad, inexplicably, furiously mad. He was mad that his house burned down. He was mad that his sister died. He was mad that he had to be on this loser team. He was mad that his ribs hurt. Josh gripped the bat with white knuckles and swung. Josh knew the sound of a ball hitting a bat; he knew the sound of a home run. He knew he'd just hit it out of the park.

When Josh reached home plate his teammates piled on top of him laughing, clapping and cheering. They were going to lose. They had two outs and "Wrong-End" Lane was up next, but they had never seen a nine-year-old hit the ball over the fence. Josh shrugged his congratulators off and sank into the corner of the dugout to await the end of the game and defeat.

Mere seconds later, he was lining up to shake hands with the other team. Josh could think of ten thousand things he'd rather be doing, but the only time he had ever gotten into real trouble with his father was for be a bad sport. His hand barely touched the boys' from the other team and he didn't move his lips as he mumbled, "Good game."

In the parking lot Josh found his dad standing by the car, beaming proud. "That was fantastic, Slugger."

"We lost," Josh answered sullenly.

"Yeah, but _you_ played great. You played the best game you could and you really helped your team. That's as much as any of us can do," Noah said unlocking the passenger door.

Josh hesitated a moment before he climbed in. By the time his dad had gotten into the driver's seat Josh was sitting with his glove between his knees, shivering. His eyes blinked rapidly to keep from crying. Beside him Noah sighed. Josh felt Noah put his arm around him and pull him against his side. The softness of Noah's coat and the smell of his pipe and cologne were too much for Josh and hot tears cascade down his cheeks.

"It's okay, son," Noah whispered, kissing his son's head. "It's okay to miss her and it's okay to cry. Nothing could ever make me not be proud of you."

Josh let himself cry into his dad's coat. He'd cry all he wanted today. Tomorrow he would stop crying, because tomorrow Josh would turn ten.


	6. San Diego, California 1974

Title: San Diego, California 1974

Author: Elizabeth Bennet-Darcy

Disclaimer: They are not mine for keeps. I'll just borrow them, play very carefully and put them back unharmed (relatively).

Summary: The senior staff, plus two, on the day before their tenth birthdays. Mainly focuses on their relationships with their fathers.

Spoilers: Various episodes, but nothing too telling.

Rating: PG13 for the series; PG for this story

**SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA 1974**

"Tent, check; sleeping bags, check; canteens, check; bug spray, check," Sam smiled as he finished checking off his list. He had everything assembled at the bottom of the stairs waiting to be loaded in the car when his dad came home. The clicking of heels on the hard wood floor alerted him to his mother's presence. She was dressed up and her hair was piled on her head. Sam could smell her perfume and she smelled like Mom. She smiled at him as she handed him a delicate gold chain. Sam stood on the third step and carefully reached his arms around her neck to clasp the necklace. Turning she smiled at him, "Thank you Sam, I'd kiss you, but the lipstick."

Sam just smiled, he could spend hours just looking at how beautiful his mother was. "We have to catch fish and cook it ourselves in tin foil," Sam told her proudly. She wrinkled her perfect nose, "Let's not talk about fish, sweetheart."

"Dad said that if it doesn't rain we could sleep outside the tent under the stars. You're sure you're not gonna be lonely?"

"I have the play tonight, tea at that awful Morgenstern woman's house tomorrow and the church bizarre on Sunday, I'll be too busy to be lonely. Now make sure you have everything so you're ready when your father gets here."

The words had barely left her lips when Sam heard the door of his father's car slam. He got a nervous fluttery feeling in his stomach. He and his father were going on the Boy Scouts father/son camping trip and Sam was excited.

The door had barely opened when Sam cried out, "I have everything we need packed and ready to go, Dad."

Norm Seaborn gave his son a sad smile, "I'm so sorry kiddo. I have to go to the Santa Monica office. I'll be there the whole weekend. I'm sorry."

"Oh," Sam said, his face falling, "that's... that's okay. It was just a dumb camping trip."

"I knew you be a sport about it. I promise we'll go camping another time, just you and me. No scout regulation to follow. I'm sure your mother can call one of the other father's to give you a ride. Sarah, you look beautiful. I just gotta grab some suits and..." his voice trailed off as he headed up stairs.

Sarah frowned up the stairs. She held out a perfectly manicured hand to her son, "Come on we'll make some calls."

"That's okay, Mom. I don't really want to go without Dad. I'll just go next time," Sam blinked to keep the tears from falling, but his voice wavered.

Sarah knelt in front of her son, "Now Sam, I know you're disappointed, but your father works really hard for us and sometimes he has to be away. I don't know what the trouble is in that Santa Monica office, but he has to go there a lot for now and we have to be patient. I know he can't be having fun going there all the time and sleeping in a yucky hotel. I'll tell you what, you go put on your suit and come see the Mikado with me and then we'll go to dinner, okay? We'll go on a little date."

Sam smiled despite his tears and nodded. Disregarding her lipstick, Sarah kissed him on the forehead.

As he stood in his room wrestling the tiny buttons of his dress shirt Sam decided to be the best son he could for his Mom and Dad. Tomorrow he'd do everything in his power to be the best son in the world, because tomorrow Sam would turn ten.


	7. Madison, Wisconsin 1982

Title: Madison, Wisconsin 1982

Author: Elizabeth Bennet-Darcy

Disclaimer: They are not mine for keeps. I'll just borrow them, play very carefully and put them back unharmed (relatively).

Summary: The senior staff, plus two, on the day before their tenth birthdays. Mainly focuses on their relationships with their fathers.

Spoilers: Various episodes, but nothing too telling.

Rating: PG13 for the series; PG for this story.

**MADISON, WISCONSIN 1982**

"Donna, what is all this and why do you have it spread across the living room?"

Donna looked up from her map to see her mother, father and older sister standing in the doorway, "I'm planning a trip."

"To your bedroom with all this stuff?" he father suggested.

"To New York City," Donna corrected.

"Where did you get all this?" Donna's mother asked picking up a travel brochure.

"I wrote to the New York State Board of Tourism," Donna explained. "They send you all this stuff for free. They're really very nice in New York."

"Why did you write to New York?" Donna's father asked suspiciously.

"So I could plan a trip," Donna stated simply. "We could take a vacation to New York City."

"What's so great about New York City," Donna's sister asked pushing maps aside.

"They have everything in New York City;" Donna exclaimed in disbelief, "the World Trade Center, the Empire State Building, Central Park, Broadway and the United Nations! Did you know they have people who sell hot dogs on street corners?"

"They also have crime and pollution and bums," Donna's father barked, "besides New York is way too expensive. We'll go to the lake for vacation like we do every year."

"It's not that expensive, I figured it and..."

"Donna, we're not going to New York City," her father said sternly.

"Okay," Donna said brightly. She reached into her school bag and pulled out another stack of maps and travel brochures. "How 'bout Washington D.C.?"

"What?" Donna's father snapped, sinking into the easy chair.

"Washington D.C. has lots of free stuff, like the Capitol and the Smithsonian and the monuments and you can even get a tour of the White House!"

"Donna..." her father warned.

"What could be more patriotic than visiting the seat of our countries government?" Donna parroted from a brochure, hoping to appeal to her father's fierce, if somewhat blind, patriotism.

"What's the matter, Donnatella, isn't Wisconsin good enough for you? It's was good enough for my parents and your mother's and for me and your mother. Your brother and sister don't seem to think a relaxing two weeks at the lake is a bad vacation. Why can't you just be satisfied with what you've got? Why do you think you should always have something more? You're gonna have to learn, little girl, to be happy with what you've got and to stop tryin' to be some world class jet setter."

"I want to see the whole world, Daddy," Donna whispered, trying to explain her desire.

"There's nothing happening in the world that isn't happening here in Wisconsin. And anything that is goin' on out there that we don't have, I don't ever want you seeing anyway. The only trip you're gonna on is to take this crap to the garbage and then take yourself to your room. You stay there tonight and see if tomorrow you can learn to appreciate the great wide world of Madison, Wisconsin."

Donna scooped up her maps and brochures and walked into the kitchen determined not to cry as she stuffed them into the trash can. She walked back through the living room with her head held high and closed her bedroom door with a quiet click.

"Jack," she heard her mother say in a soft reproachful voice.

"No, that girl's got to learn that she can't just go where ever she wants. She's got to learn that life doesn't work that way. She has to be real. No one is just gonna hand her some dream job and take care of her. She's gonna have to get used to the fact that she, like everybody else in this town, is gonna stay here her whole life and the sooner she learns to be happy with that the better."

Donna smiled and flopped down on her bed. Turning onto her stomach she pulled a world map from under her pillow. Tomorrow she would plan a trip around the world, because tomorrow Donna would turn ten.


	8. Southeast Washington DC 1988

Title: Southeast Washington D.C. 1988

Author: Elizabeth Bennet-Darcy

Disclaimer: They are not mine for keeps. I'll just borrow them, play very carefully and put them back unharmed (relatively).

Summary: The senior staff, plus two, on the day before their tenth birthdays. Mainly focuses on their relationships with their fathers.

Spoilers: Various episodes, but nothing too telling.

Rating: PG13 for gang activity

**SOUTHEAST WASHINGTON D.C. 1988**

He walked east three blocks, staring at the ground. He crossed at 17th and walked on the other side of the street for a block and a half carefully looking in the shop windows and nowhere else. He crossed back over to the north side of the street after the Chinese laundry but before the pawn shop. He tried to run as fast as he could past the basketball court and then would quickly walk the final block making sure he ran his hand along the wall of the Police Station. Once at the Station he would check to see who was patrolling his neighborhood at five p.m. and wait for them to drive him home. It was the route he took twice a week after his advanced math class at the Rec. center.

Charlie flattened himself against the chain link fence. "Almost," he thought to himself before turning and climbing the twelve foot chain link fence in order to get out of the way to the brawling fist fighters that were at his feet. He dropped lightly on the other side of the fence and walked backwards, he was smart enough to know that you never turn your back to a street gang, until he was standing against the wall. Having put as much distance and as many obstacles between himself and the clash, he was able to ascertain the players. A quick look told him that he was witnessing one of the safer street fights in gang warfare, a jump in. Everyone in the group had the same colors and identical bandanas some where on their person.

The newest potential member of the gang was getting beaten pretty decidedly, but was holding his own enough to garner respect from the group. One of the leaders suddenly decided that he had seen enough, the inductee was deemed worthy, for now. The majority of the group scattered, but a few helped the new gang member into the basketball court and propped him against the wall near Charlie.

Charlie looked at the young black man sitting near him and gasped. It was JaVonte Pryson, a sixteen-year-old that lived in Charlie's building. Charlie had always liked him. He was a great basketball player and was really smart. He was the one who taught Charlie when to avoid eye contact and when to let the people on the street to know that you knew they were there, but you weren't gonna give them any trouble. He had once stood up for Deanna when some bully twelve-year-olds tried to take her jump rope. Charlie had looked up to JaVonte after his father left.

JaVonte smiled at him through two swelling eyes and a fat lip, "Look at me Charlie! Man, I made it, I'm in a gang. Man, I got family, I got respect. Charlie, you do the right things and in a couple years I'll get you here."

"Th...Thanks JaVonte. I... I gotta go, my mom..." Charlie said as he ran back to the fence. He paused at the top to look at the Washington Monument, its red light blinking against the twilight. Washington fought for freedom, but this wasn't freedom, this was survival.

Charlie ran the rest of the way to the Police Station. His mother was at the front desk pacing. "Mom."

"Charlie, where were you? You scared me to death. Don't you ever be late again," she said hugging him tight and kissing his cheeks and forehead. "Do you understand me?" she asked holding him at arms length. "Now, Captain Reed is going to take you and Deanna home. You lock all the locks on the doors and keep the T.V. down so Mrs. Carlson doesn't complain. I'll be home around nine."

"Ready to go there, chief?" Captain Reed asked. Charlie grabbed Deanna's hand and nodded. He followed Captain Reed to his car which was the nicest car he'd ever been in.

They were three blocks from their apartment when they had to stop to let a long line of police cars, black Suburbans, black town cars and black limousines pass. "What was that?" Charlie asked.

"That was the Presidential Motorcade, son," Captain Reed said. "Probably the closest we'll ever get to the President.

Charlie nodded and watched the receding police cars. He'd seen a commercial on T.V. that said anybody could grow up to be President. He thought of JaVonte bleeding, swollen and proud on the black top of the basketball court. Tomorrow Charlie would have to find a new role model, because tomorrow Charlie would turn ten.


End file.
